All The Sins
by LochlynParker
Summary: Victor gets an unusual invitation, which leads to an erotic night. Pairing: Victorian. Rated M for a reason, lots of slash and a dash of smut.
1. Chapter 1

**All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit**

The invitation arrived in a slick off-white envelope attached to a medium sized black box. Victor, who assumed unannounced gifts to be a curse of sorts, left it alone on an end table for almost an entire day before his curiosity got the best of him and he gently separated the wax sealing the note. It simply gave him an address with the message, "Wear this, for me." There was no name.

He almost didn't acknowledge it, until he opened the box and found the best suit he had ever chanced to lay eyes upon. It felt like satin, and yet there was no indication of whom it came from. Victor became curious, and donned the apparel. When he looked on himself in the mirror, the very least he could do, he thought, was to thank the person that sent him such an outfit.

So it happened that Victor walked through the London streets at sundown with a fall breeze blowing through the rotten streets. He pulled his collar up to his chin, simply hoping that whatever lay at the end of this trek was well worth it.

The manor he was directed to was gargantuan. The only person he knew that held an estate such as this one was Sir Malcolm Murray, but he was also aware that Sir Malcolm did not hold this title. He was confused, and a little excited, about who awaited him beyond that door.

Banging the knocker three times in succinct succession, he was surprised to find the door opening on an empty foyer with a ragged looking butler standing, one arm swung wide. Before he could utter a greeting, the older man said, "Straight ahead and to the right, the portrait room."

"Thank you," Victor said uneasily, moving past the man and began making his way down the long corridor. One of the movements from _Tristan and Isolde_ played ominously from the open room he had been directed towards. Victor had had his fair share of romantic poetry in his childhood, and with that came his fair share of opera, yet he was pleasantly surprised that he recognized the selection.

He wandered towards the music. The portrait room was grand, maybe even larger than Sir Murray's ballroom. It was lit from several candelabra spaced a bit too far apart on the wall to see well, and long shadows draped the couches scattered across the mostly open area.

From behind a screen on the far side, someone stepped out into the pools of darkness concentrated there. "Thank you for coming, doctor."

Victor still couldn't see the other man's face, and it filled him with a sense of unease. "I wanted to thank the generous person who would give me such an… elegant gift," he said, taking a few steps into the room. The machine in the corner clicked, and the music began again. He shifted his weight and stood awkwardly, waiting for his host to step forward into the light.

"I'm glad you enjoy it, and might I say it looks marvelous on you. Sir Murray was correct." The man took a step closer to the light. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Dorian Gray."

When he emerged from the darkness Victor's breath caught in his throat. Never before had he seen anyone so beautiful. Dorian wore a long red coat, open to expose a pale chest, and tight leather pants. Suddenly Victor felt very over-dressed and extremely self conscious, as he never dreamt to have an encounter with a man such as this.

"Well," Victor responded when he found his bearings again, "I assume you already know who I am."

"I know a name, and a profession. That barely qualifies as knowing a person, don't you think?" Dorian began picking his way across the room, closing the distance between them, his body moving like liquid.

"Might I ask what has prompted such a gift?" Victor ran his hand down his torso.

"Look around you," Dorian requested, "What do you see?"

For the first time, Victor took in his surroundings, trying to catch every detail. The walls were lined with portraits of varying size, stitched together like a quilt. He felt the weight of a hundred sets of eyes on him in that moment, and it held a dizzying effect. He wanted to sit down, but somehow thought that might not be the best idea just yet. "I see pictures of people," he said.

"Now what don't you see?" A playful gleam crept into Dorian's eye.

He really didn't want to take another slow glance around the room. "What game are you playing here?"

Dorian was now just an arm's length away. There was a sensuality that radiated from his body, clouding Victor's thoughts. "I don't have any pictures of doctors yet, especially none as handsome as yourself."

A chill ran down the young doctor's spine. Had he really been called here to be photographed? The ones adorning the walls would have been charming if there weren't so many, and Dorian wanted to add more? There had to be something more to this, but he couldn't figure it out. Definitely not with this proximity.

Frankly Victor had never put much thought into things such as sex. He spent most of his time locked away in his lab, and all the time outside his lab he yearned to get back to it. But now, he couldn't help but to wonder what it would be like to touch that pale skin, caress it with the same delicate touch he executed so astonishingly in his work. He saw Dorian appraising him, taking in how his present fit.

"Please, come in," Dorian shouted over Victor's shoulder, knocking him out of his trance.

Victor half turned to see the man who had let him inside standing at the threshold, dragging photography equipment.

Putting an arm around Victor's shoulder, Dorian guided him back towards the screen he had came out from behind. "You, you really want to take my picture?" He was dumbfounded.

"Yes, I most certainly do."

"Isn't it a little dark for that?"

"We have a flash bulb, don't you worry about that."

Victor had never posed for a portrait before, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to start now. "Then why send me a suit? Why not a laboratory coat, or a surgeon's attire?"

"We both know you're not that kind of doctor."

"I thought you said you didn't know me."

"Small facets of one's character does not lead to true knowing. And I've spoken with Sir Malcolm quite extensively about you. I don't take my subjects lightly." Dorian's breath warmed his ear, and Victor felt his legs tremble. Something waited just beneath the surface, and he could feel it twisted, writhing, longing to break free. "I do, however, have some props if you'd like to utilize them."

He pulled himself away from the doctor and disappeared behind the curtain. Wheeling out a cart, he said, almost sheepishly, "I hope these are to your liking."

Upon the cart sat an arrangement of surgical tools, which had clearly never been used. The steel gleamed in the candlelight.

Victor found himself amazed. In his own lab, he used tools he had calculatedly swiped during his tenure at university. He managed to keep them in decent shape, but they were nothing special. Without realizing he was doing so, he began to run his hand over the instruments. He jerked his hand back when he noticed Dorian watching him with a seductive smile twisting his lips.

"These are beautiful," he said, eyeing the cleaver.

"And they're yours, as long as you fulfill your end of this agreement."

"All this, the clothing, the utensils, just for a picture? Is that what I am truly to believe?"

"Yes, that is accurate. Of course, how you'd like to thank me is entirely up to you. Once we get the perfect image, there'll be no need for this gentleman to linger." He waved airily at the man setting up the camera.

No one in Victor's life had ever been this erotic with him. He was taken aback, flattered, and confused all at the same time. "All right, well I suppose we should just get to it then. Although, seeing as how I've never done this before, I may need some directing."

"I would most gladly perform the task. Now," he pointed towards the cleaver, "I think that would be perfect."

Victor gasped when he handled the blade. It was magnificent in its construction, and he knew, somehow, that it was made for him. He thought of the body parts scattered about his laboratory, and how easily this could separate the disparate parts. With these tools he could effortlessly finish his research.

The camera was assembled and ready for use. For a moment, Victor just stood there, the cleaver suddenly clumsy in his hand. He wasn't lying when he said this was a new experience, and Dorian instantly stepped in to help.

"Here, like this," he said, and took Victor's wrist in his hand and began positioning him.

"This is what you want? Doesn't it look a bit ridiculous?" Victorian questioned. He was standing with one hand on his hip, the other holding the cleaver perilously close to his face, the sharp edge centimeters from his skin.

"No, this is perfect. I want it to look like you could pucker up and kiss it. Don't you love the idea of a little danger?" He back off a few paces and nodded at the photographer. Before Victor could even manage a smile the flash went off and he was blinded.

From then on he was thrown. Dorian kept shouting his directions and Victor scrambled to obey, but he felt like nothing he did matched the caliber of the pictures that hung around him. Thinking of them brought back that dizziness, and the flash continued to explode and he continued trying his best, but he thought nothing had come from it.

And then, just like that, Dorian yelled, "That's a wrap! Thank you so much, kind sir, for your time. Now if you could leave us alone, I'd like to thank the doctor myself."

The photographer left his equipment where it was and exited the room.

Dorian stepped over to Victor. "You were perfection," he said, drawing right up to him, their chests nearly touching. Victor tilted his head up to meet Dorian's gaze, and he instantly became hard.

"So, how would you like me to thank you for these gifts?"

"I think you may have known the answer to that the minute you walked into this room," Dorian stated frankly. He took one of Victor's hands and placed it on his chest. "Touch," he commanded in that delicate voice of his.

This intimacy frightened Victor, but he felt himself giving in to it. The sensation of another man's skin on his own, and the invitation to explore further, filled him with a lust he had never encountered outside his lab. And living, warm flesh was wondrous compared to steel instruments and glass vials. He traced Dorian's nipple, then pulled him closer and wrapped his hand around to feel his back.

"There is one problem," Dorian interrupted, shrugging out of his jacket.

"And that would be?" Victor muttered breathlessly.

"You are wearing far too much clothing."

Dorian descended on Victor like rainfall, his deft fingers working each button as if he had already memorized the garment, pushing Victor towards one of the couches while he worked. Trying to gather himself enough to play catch up, Victor found his own fingers clawing at the other man's pants, wanting nothing more than to just tear them from his body, to release their prisoner.

They fell to the padded couch as one messy ball of limbs, a trail of fabric in their wake. Dorian twisted until he was on top of Victor, playfully pinning him to the cushions. He felt the young man grow hard, and smiled.

"You like a little domination, I see," he said. Before giving him the chance to respond, Dorian mashed his mouth against Victor's, working his tongue through semi-parted lips, and was pleasantly surprised when the doctor responded in kind.

Both now totally nude, Dorian broke the kiss and sat up, admiring Victor's lean body. "You are quite the beauty, aren't you?"

"I am nowhere as beautiful as you are."

"Ah, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Victor started to say something more, then stopped. He was staring at Dorian's member, standing at attention and begging for release. Wiggling from beneath Dorian, he pushed the other man down on the sofa, tracing the line of his jaw with one hand.

When he took Dorian in the mouth, they both started to moan softly. Again, Victor found himself doing what he hadn't thought himself capable of doing, yet apparently he had some natural talent. He worked slowly, losing himself in the moment completely, until a firm hand was placed on his shoulder and pushed him back.

He looked up at Dorian, confused.

"I don't want this over so soon, pet," Dorian explained. "Now, your turn."

The waves of euphoria that washed over him when Dorian went to work wiped his mind blank. There was nothing else to the world, nothing else to him, except his member and the mouth wrapped tightly around it. He had thought he had done a good job, but Dorian worked like a professional, better even. Of course, Victor had nothing to compare this too, but he knew that it could not get any more amazing than this. Feeling his body restrict a little, he gave Dorian the same signal he had received, to pause.

Dorian looked up with mischief in his eye. "My, you're an easy one to work up." He chuckled, then slid himself up the length of Victor's body, not once breaking contact.

Everything fell away then. They were two bodies entwined as one miraculous entity, and Dorian lowered his lips to Victor's neck. Victor's fingers played in Dorian's hair, over his smooth back. He wished his arms were long enough to caress the soft mounds of Dorian's ass, but knew that time would come.

Dorian flipped Victor over, and the doctor was shocked by the slender man's incredible strength. He felt as though he were a plaything, and found that he didn't care.

"I'll be as gentle as possible," he breathed. From the depths of the couch he pulled out a bottle of oil.

As Dorian entered him he screamed, and wasn't sure if it was from pain or pleasure. Then again, he figured you couldn't have one without the other, not entirely. Dorian rocked slowly on top of him, as if searching for something.

Inching in a little deeper, Dorian hooked upwards, and found what he was looking for. As Victor's prostate got rammed, the pleasure emanating from his body nearly blinded him. The world lost focus and he gave into it, riding along this ocean of sensations he had never thought possible.

They came together. As the ocean receded, Dorian slipped out of Victor and they turned sideways, spooning in the mess they had created.

Victor felt himself fighting sleep, craning his neck to meet Dorian's lips.

"It's okay," Dorian murmured. "It really takes it out of you. Rest."

And so Victor gave in, letting his heavy eyelids fall, and sank back into this strange man he suddenly felt madly in love with. The night was half over, but he suspected he'd be sleeping well into tomorrow.

A/N: So… this happened. I originally wanted to do a fluffy, one shot of this pairing, but I do have an idea to extend it out if people are into it! So please drop a review and let me know what you think!


	2. I'll Plunder Heaven Blind

**I'll Plunder Heaven Blind, Steal From All the Gods**

A/N: So I'm introducing a new character into the mix. I can't quite call him an OC, but I think they made have already made reference to him on the show, and just know that if that is the case, then I'm taking it in a whole different direction. Also, if I were in charge of casting, this character would be played by Logan Lerman. Enjoy…

The morning passed in a daze for the young doctor. He woke up curled into Dorian, which was an interesting experience he had never before encountered. While he wanted the other man to wake, and maybe have a repeat performance of the night before, Dorian remained unmoved and not entirely willing to wake up.

So Victor found himself collecting his garments and exiting without fanfare from the mansion he had been led to the night before. He walked, dazed, through the London dawn. Part of him wanted to attack the work in his lab with a renewed energy, but another aspect of his mind wanted him to continue exploring the path that had opened up for him the night before. He felt revitalized, a new man, and wondered where this path could lead. The world glimmered with a new light, and he was excited at the possibilities.

He wanted to send a note to Dorian immediately, to invite him out – there was no chance in hell he would allow Dorian to his flat on the east end, though. He didn't want to invite himself back either, that might over-extend his original invitation.

Head spinning, he wandered through the streets in the general direction of his place, but not quite in a hurry to get there. Returning might mean moving past the previous evening and settling back into his normal life, which seems just so ordinary compared to the pleasures he had recently been enlightened to. He realized then that, while he would never abandon his research altogether, that other things, other miracles, existed in this world. And examining this new world of sensations further may actually prove beneficial to his research, help him further understand the life that he wanted so desperately to create.

Without realizing it, he had made his way to the alley behind the hospital that bordered on his neighborhood. While he was employed, in a manner of speaking, he had spent several midnights in this alley scavenging for old tools to refurbish. It had been several fortnights since his last night walk, and it felt good to be here again.

He turned a corner and came across a massive pile of garbage, only some of it stuffed into medium-sized burlap sacks. One arm stretched out, hovering over the stack, when it heaved beneath his hand.

Jumping back, Victor cried out. Then a slender arm poked through the pile, followed by a dirty face. When the other man was half out of the trash he noticed Victor gaping, and froze.

An awkward silence bloomed between the two. Victor, still elated from the night before, basking in that after-sex confidence, found himself at a sudden loss for words. It was a strange juxtaposition, and he wasn't certain how he felt about it. Still, in the end the confidence won out in his heart, and he twisted his hand into an invitation to help the other man out.

The man took the assistance with a thankful gleam in his eye.

"Thank you," he muttered apologetically. "I seemed to have gotten lost in there."

Victor raised an eyebrow, looking over this stranger. He was rail thin, dressed in a shoddy looking suit that hung off his bones, and covered in dirt and worse things. Even through all of that, he was obviously very attractive, which stirred the butterflies in Victor's stomach. And it wasn't that he was more handsome than the delicate features of Dorian Gray, he was equally pretty in a much different way. The thought occurred to him that this was how Dorian must have viewed himself the previous night. A beautiful, lost soul, who had no idea of the power that beauty held, or how to wield it against others.

"Don't worry about it, I've had similar days in this alley myself." Victor flashed what he hoped was his most charming smile. "I'm Dr. Victor Frankenstein." He meant to reach out a hand for him to shake, then realized their fingers were still entwined.

"Thanks again, so much," he was blushing now. "They call me Dr. Henry Jekyll."

"Find anything useful in there?" Victor let his hand drop, and thought he saw a flicker of something flash across Henry's face. Was the other doctor disappointed they had broken contact? A smile crept into the corner of Victor's lips.

"Nothing to find today, I'm afraid."

Victor, bathing in his new-found bravado, decided to take a risk. He still wasn't sure what surprises lay in store for him in this shimmering new landscape, but what the hell. He leaned in close to Henry, his lips almost tasting the other man's ear. "How about we get you cleaned up? My flat isn't far from here."

Henry looked at him as if he couldn't figure out what exactly Victor meant.

So Victor leaned in further. "I have a large tub."

His intentions dawned on Henry. "That's a very… direct offer," he said in a level tone Victor found hard to decipher. The gears in his head turned.

The sun flared over the rooftops. Henry was aware of the kindness this other doctor was offering, and he could use a bath before traveling back across the city to his own abode, but something felt forced. He could feel that Victor was coming from a genuine place with his bold statements, and a peculiar vulnerability resided beneath the surface that was certainly enticing enough to discover further. But this all seemed rushed, and he wanted to find out why. The thought occurred to him that if he were to question Victor about it, he wouldn't even know how to answer. The entire situation was intriguing.

Victor blushed. "Not too direct, I hope."

The dirty doctor tilted his head to one side and offered a smile. "You know what? No. No it is not. And I could definitely use a bath. Show me the way?"

This is happening, Victor thought. Whatever Dorian Gray had instilled in him was now reverberating outward. He had been given a gift, even more so than the instruments he just now realized were still sitting on their tray back in the portrait room. That spurred a small flame of hope within him that he was not finished with Dorian, even with the prospect of Henry before him. The spiral widens.

They made their way out of the alley, Henry trailing slightly behind Victor. Small talk was exchanged, but nothing meaningful. They both toed the line of intimacy without crossing it in their conversation, and that seemed mutually satisfactory for them.

By the time they reached Victor's building, the tension between them, despite the clichéd chatter, began to boil over. They had been secretly chipping away their exteriors so when they entered his apartment, they had effectively stripped away the pleasantries that separated stranger from acquaintance, and that was all they really needed to accomplish.

"I will get some water boiling if you'd like to use this pitcher to start getting the tub filled," Victor said, pointing to a pitcher on a table by the door to the bathroom.

"Aye," Henry responded.

Victor took the largest pot he had and began a fire in his wood burning stove. He pumped the pot full and placed it on the singular vent above the flame.

They moved about their tasks until the pot was almost fully boiling. Victor noticed Henry had not emerged from the bathroom for some time, but left it alone until he had an excuse to check on him. The pot began boiling over, and he grinned.

Grabbing a couple rags tucked away in a drawer, he gripped the handles of the pot and started towards the door Henry waited behind. He had no idea what image awaited him beyond that slender slat of wood, but his mind kept generating images in a frenzy.

Henry, in the small room with what he found was actually quite a generously sized bath tub, stood expecting Victor. He had previously shed his clothes, standing near the lukewarm water, wanting nothing more than to see his host appear in a similar fashion.

When the door creaked open, Victor nearly spilled the water. Henry's body was lankier than his own, his skin just as pale, stretched over bone. In his own way he was just as lovely as Dorian, and that thought occurred along with a secondary one: was he always going to compare each person he met with the man surrounded by portraits? Even so, what did that matter anyway? Each person on this earth could only measure things against a standard, and he was glad to think the perfection of Dorian Gray was his own personal mirror.

He moved over to the tub, letting Henry bask in his gaze as he poured over his body. The boiling liquid splashed into the tub. Victor set the pot down nearby as Henry stirred the water together, sending a small amount of steam into the air.

"Let's get in then," Victor said, starting to unbutton his vest. Soon his clothes were discarded and he allowed Henry to drink in his body before they met directly in front of the bath.

Lifting one hand up, Victor brushed some dirt off Henry's upper lip, then let his hand trail around to the back of Henry's head, grabbing a handful of his dark brown hair and pulling their faces together.

After the kiss, Henry pulled back a little. "So that's what that feels like," he whispered, "I've always been curious," and leaned in for a second round. Feeling bold, he allowed his fingers to play along the trail of hair leading south from Victor's stomach, and reveled in his discovery.

They were both doctors, but abandoned their scientific minds, letting the repressed sensual sense within them awaken. For Victor, this was somehow more intimate than his meeting with Dorian. For Henry, this was a personal awakening of his own.

Barely separating, they slowly stepped over the edge of the bath and sunk into the warm water. Victor straddled Henry, much in the way Dorian had the night before, and leaned Henry against the end of the tub, kissing him throughout the descent. Then he let his mouth wander, kissing and licking along Henry's jaw line, his Adam's apple, and down to his chest. Henry let out gently ragged gasps and moans, but otherwise remained mostly still. Never before had he found himself in such a position, a garden of such earthly delights. It bordered on a spiritual experience for him.

"Wait," Henry said.

Victor paused.

"I'm still filthy," he explained. "Maybe you should wash me off before we go much further?"

Victor remembered that he wasn't exactly spring-fresh himself, and decided they make a game out of it. "I could use this bath also. So why don't you go ahead," he instructed, handing a washrag to Henry, "and clean off the part of my body you'd like to taste."

Henry took the rag delicately, and soaked it in the water before rubbing it along his partner's left collarbone. He leaned up, letting the rag float away and let his lips caress the skin.

After a moment Victor splashed for their toy and said, "My turn, but you're going to have to sit up for this one."

Henry seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, flashing a toothy grin. This game was far from over, and he couldn't wait to see how it ended.


	3. I'll Live Inside You Forever

**I'll Live Inside You Forever, With Satan Himself By My Side**

Dorian Gray woke in the early afternoon. He wasn't surprised to find his companion from the night before gone – he was aware of how hard he could be to wake. Rising from the cushions, he noticed instantly that the surgical tools he presented Victor remained on the small metal cart. A smile played over his features, lightening his eyes. Even if he had scared the young doctor, at least he would get one more chance to see him.

He called his butler to get his bath ready and wandered into the main hall of his mansion. He passed a side table and a flier caught his eye. His butler must have retrieved it from the door and set it here for him.

There was a gala event that night. The flier was busy and flashy, but something about it appealed to him. This was by far not the first invitation of this sort he had encountered.

At least the idea of a gala could give him some motivation for the day. He took his time in the bath, and took even more time running his fingers back and forth over his collection of fragrances. Who did he want to be today, he wondered. He finally picked a combination of sandalwood and cinnamon, one of his personal favorites.

He dressed himself in one of his best suits and made his way to the kitchen, where his butler had dinner waiting for him. "Thank you," he said to the older man, and waited until he was alone before he dug in. The lamb was piping hot and salty, the vegetables steamed to perfection. He savored every bite.

On his way out the front door, he paused by a mirror and adjusted his ascot. Another night, another mystery to explore.

He took his time picking his way across the city, taking in, as he usually did, every sensation that crossed his path. From the filthy odors spewing from chimneys, to the dirty faced children weaving in and out of the masses, he soaked in each detail.

Maybe it was this love of observation that made him turn down an alley two doors down from the address for the party. He could have sworn he heard something that sounded like a scream, but it quickly got lost in the winds and noises of the city.

Curious, he took to the shadows and crept along the stone building on his right. About a hundred feet down the alley took a left hook. Barely any light from the nearly full moon made it down this far, but Dorian acclimated to darkness well. Most of his life was spent this way, lurking and observing, constantly searching for that next thrill. Something told him that thrill is right around that corner.

He moved to the other side of the alley right before the hook, and peered around the corner. There have been few things in his long life that held the power to surprise him, but what he saw shocked him.

There was a man, easily six inches taller than himself and twice as wide, looming over a scared looking woman. Her eyes and hair were wild, but through the disarray it was obvious she was a high-brow citizen.

The man grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off the ground, then slammed her into the wall. Her scream clipped off in her throat, her eyes rolled back in her head, and a trickle of blood began running down from her right temple. "Are you ready now, bitch?" The man's voice reverberated from some dark place within himself, self-assure and gravelly. He tossed the woman on the ground and flung up the ruffles of her dress into her face. With one deft hand he ripped her undergarments off.

Dorian hovered just behind the corner, knowing he should step in. That urge fought with the urge to watch, to witness, to see that one extraordinary thing he looked for each day. He also knew that whatever sin he chose to commit here tonight would never be reflected on his person. No consequences, that's how he lived his life. With that came no forgiveness, but seeing as his personal Judgment Day was so far off…

The hulking monster was about to rape the woman. If Dorian were to act, now was his last chance.

"Hey!" He cried, surprising himself almost as much as the couple in the alley. "I'd signaled the bobby, they'll be here in a pinch. You'd better let the lady go," he said as he stepped fully around the corner.

The man stood up straight and spun on Dorian. The woman, whimpering, hurriedly gathered the tatters of her clothing and scrambled to her feet, finding a way to back away as she did so.

"Run!" Dorian shouted at her, and felt an honest dose of relief. It was refreshing to feel something, anything, that wasn't physical. These episodes occurred rarely.

"And who the fuck do you think you are?" The man growled at him.

"Well, most days, I think I'm Mr. Dorian Gray," he replied with a sneer. "And to whom might I be speaking?"

Instead of answering, the man rushed Dorian. He was caught off guard and barely had time to brace himself before impact. The man shoved him against a wall, sending a ripple of pain radiating throw Dorian, which he shook off much easier than he should have been able to. A short laugh escaped his lips, which caused the man to step back and examine him.

"That should have fractured your ribs," he said calculatingly.

"No one said it didn't."

The man looked Dorian over, which Dorian returned in kind. The man was large, true, but he was also shredded. His clothes hung off his body in tatters, and looked to be a few sizes too small. Muscles gleamed in the scant moonlight, as did his generous amount of facial hair. Violent tendencies aside, he was quite exquisite in his construction. Dorian was compelled to know more.

"How does that not bother you?" he asked.

Dorian closed the distance between them, having by now completely forgetting the gala he had been on his way towards. "Does it bother you, I wonder?"

The man's breath washed over him, and Dorian detected a tremor running through him. "What kind of creature are you?"

"I could ask the same thing," Dorian responded, and tilted his head up.

Instead of the kiss he expected, the man slammed the back of his hand against Dorian's jaw, sending his head rocketing up with enough force to stumble him back to the stones of the wall. His vision swam as he tried to regain his footing.

"If this is what you want," the man said, pinning him, "we're not going to do any kissing."

He grabbed Dorian's arm, twisting it and him until he could taste the weathered stone.

"And we're going to do this my way." That voice was enough to get Dorian erect. The deep baritone, almost as though it were falsified for exactly this purpose. Something seemed off about this stranger, obviously, but Dorian just wanted to live in the moment. This was rougher than anything he'd encountered before, and a stark contrast to the previous evening.

A small part of his mind momentarily returned to Victor, and he wondered how the young doctor might react to his secrets. There was a genuine sensitivity to him that spoke to Dorian, and he yearned to further understand that type of individual.

"By the way, my name is Edward. Edward Hyde." That baritone shook him back to the present.

In a night full of surprises, it didn't really startle him that his pants were around his ankles. The cool London breeze felt amazing on his bare ass. Mr. Hyde ripped away the last remaining fragments of his pants and Dorian hazarded a glance, and was pleased with what he saw. This was a night of new experiences, indeed.

The sex was urgent from the moment Edward rammed Dorian. His body exploded in a fresh wave of pain and he reveled in it. "You call that rough?" he chided.

Edward took the invitation for all that it was worth. He pounded into Dorian's ass at first, then began reacting with his entire body. Dorian felt a wrist snap against the stone wall, the bone fracturing. It was as if he was trapped between an anvil and a smith's hammer. Edward flung his whole body against Dorian, time and again, causing them both to cry out in pleasure, but only Dorian to answer it in pain as well.

Despite his pain they came together, Hyde cackling above Dorian.

Spent, Dorian all but collapsed. This was by far not the best sex he'd ever had, but it was the most unique experience of his life.

Hyde didn't let Dorian hit the floor. It seemed as though a surge of adrenaline rushed through the large man, and he let out a wild howl, and scooped Dorian in his arms. "Had enough yet?"

Dorian was still in an excessive amount of pain, but he knew exactly how to correct it. And his pride wouldn't allow Hyde to finish on his own note. "You call that enough? Show me what you can really do."

That caused a rage-filled howl from Hyde. "Oh, you'll see exactly what I'm capable of."

Trying to claw his way out from between the wall and the monster, Dorian scratched along the stones, his fingernails chipping and cracking. Damn his pride, he felt like he was about to be ripped in two, and that was before Hyde grabbed him by the ankles and flung him across the narrow alley. He slammed against the opposite wall and crumpled to the ground, feeling more bones breaking.

Hyde came back for seconds. "That enough to shut you up?" Without waiting for a response, he slammed his gigantic foot into Dorian's mouth.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked through bloody teeth, trying to roll over but finding himself unable to do so.

"You're looking for motive in a monster? That's a laugh."

Hyde took Dorian's arm, and he got the sense that this might be the last he saw of the appendage. He pulled with all his might, tendons straining. Right before the bone was freed from its socket, the pressure eased.

Dorian looked up through bleary eyes, and it looked like Hyde was vibrating violently for absolutely no reason. "What is…" was all he was able to say before darkness edged into his periphery. He had to get home, he had to get back to the painting, or he would writhe in this alley for eternity.

The hulking monster looked different somehow. It took a moment for Dorian to realize the other man was actually shrinking before his eyes.

"No! Not now!" Hyde shouted, his hands shooting to his temples, pulling at his scraggly hair. He stumbled backwards, then dashed towards the mouth of the alley, disappearing instantly in the throng, surging like the currents of the ocean.

Dorian wanted to cry out for help, but his voice had left him. He pulled himself slowly towards the street with his one good arm, hoping for someone to save him.


	4. Nothing is so Painful

**Nothing is so Painful to the Human Mind as a Great and Sudden Change**

A/N: HAHA! Victor and Dorian are reunited in this chapter. I bet some of you were wondering if I'd ever get back to this, but… patience people! These two may be my OTP, buuuuuut, that doesn't mean I can't throw a wrench in the gears.

Victor meandered through the city streets, trying to wrap his mind around the events of the last twenty four hours. Henry had left shortly after their bath, excusing himself rather hurriedly, leaving Victor alone in his flat. Usually he liked his solitude, but after his awakening with Dorian the night before, he found himself craving company. He really had no one to call on for this need. In the past he had found friends more of an inconvenience, an unwanted distraction from his research, yet now he mourned the decision to keep the people around him at bay.

London in the night was a new world opened before him. The colors became more vibrant, the sounds of machinery crystal clear. He walked as if in a trance, allowing all the sensations of the nightlife to crash into him.

Having no intended direction, he wasn't surprised that he ended up downtown. Here at the heart of the city he was almost overwhelmed with his new eyes. Everyone seemed to be out on the town tonight, and he found it hard to navigate through the throng. The buildings swirled high above his head and he felt like he might faint. He swooned on his feet and fell against a wall, barely keeping himself standing.

This was all suddenly too much. He felt himself drawing back inwards, the introvert beating down his brand new extrovert part. His heartbeat rose, he started breathing heavier, and a panic rose up within him.

He had to get away from this, but he was in the dead center of the commotion. Searching for any sort of refuge from this, he found the mouth of an alley. All but diving inside, the sounds dimmed around him instantly and relief washed over him.

Sliding to his knees, his breathing returned to normal. The heartbeat clogging his throat receded to its natural place. What was happening to him? Then his confusion deepened as he heard some whimpering a little deeper in the alley. At first his fear rose again, but curiosity got the better of him.

He picked his way slowly into that deepening darkness, trying to will his confidence back. Dorian had truly bestowed upon him an amazing talent, one he refused to let fall by the wayside, especially now when someone lay, wounded or worse, moaning for someone to help. The voice began sounding familiar as he grew closer.

In the stray moonbeams that filtered down and the orange glare of the gas lamps on the street, he saw Dorian's bloody face. His pleading eyes locked onto Victor's, and Victor swore he saw a smile creep into the corner of his mouth before his head fell flat against the cobblestones.

"Dorian!" Victor gasped and rushed to the other man's side. His mind ridiculously tried to place a label on Dorian in that moment – friend, partner, lover? Pushing the thought down he skidded to a halt and stooped to help him. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Victor," Dorian said in a voice slightly above a whisper. "I need you to shut up, and listen."

Victor was stunned into silence, and apparent paralysis. He froze, half lifting Dorian up, feeling that parts of his body were severely damaged, maybe irreparable. The doctor instinct in his mind told him that Dorian was dying, that no one would be able to survive whatever sort of beating this man had received, that in fact, he should already be dead, and yet here he was, twisting in agony within Victor's pseudo-embrace.

"What do you need?" Victor asked, sounding more mechanical than human. His mind was shutting down, he could sense it – becoming detached from his physical self.

"I need you to take me back to my manse," he replied, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Small flecks splattered over Victor's vest, but he wasn't bothered. He'd been covered from fingertips to elbows in blood during his research and it hadn't phased him. "I need you to take me back there." With that his head drooped again and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Snapping back into himself, Victor cried out Dorian's name again, searching his throat for a pulse with two fingers while struggling to pull them both to their feet. Knowing this was an ultimately futile attempt, he steadied them both and tried again. Dorian's pulse was weak. Victor marveled again at how he remained alive despite the injuries his body sustained.

"Alright, let's get you home," Victor grumbled, wondering how he was going to transport this body halfway across London.

He shoved them both off the wall and began a shaky trek back to the main street. The crowd thinned around them, some people shooting them wildly, and inappropriately, disapproving looks, while some looked on them with shame, or pity, or possibly even guilt because they silently refused to offer assistance. It took over an hour, but Victor was able to complete his journey. Having never been athletic in any way, he took a brief moment to savor his voyage.

The same old butler from the night before let the pair enter.

"Up the stairs, down the corridor, and to the right," the old man said in almost a monotone.

Victor ogled the man like he was insane. How many times has something like this happened to his employer? He wondered, bewildered. As if his world hadn't collapsed in on itself the night before, Dorian had found yet another way to shake Victor to his core. Was that what he wanted with him – to toy with him, twist his mind, rattle his very identity?

The butler offered no help and simply faded into the darkness of the foyer. Victor wrapped his courage around him like a blanket and pulled Dorian's body up the stairs. There was a strange room filled with mirrors, though he tried his hardest not to stare into any of them. Dorian Gray was a man of many secrets, it seemed, and Victor had plenty frights for one night. Something in there may reflect horrors he wanted no part of.

He suddenly found himself in a circular room. In the center stood a large wall that separated the room in half but was open on both sides.

Dorian's eyes fluttered open and he let out a relieved sigh. He tried to speak, but blood pooled up within his throat and he found words impossible. Blood fell along the floor, spotting like rain drops. So instead of talking, he waved with his good hand, a gesture clearly indicating he wanted to be taken around the divide before them.

Victor felt hesitant all of a sudden. There was an atmosphere here that unnerved him. The air crackled with something like electricity, of which he had quite the extensive knowledge, but he saw none of the usual indications of power. There were no converters, no wires along the walls, only that thick slab a few yards in front of him. His curiosity surfaced again and begged for his legs to walk around and answer all his burning questions. His mind told him to reconsider. The emotion battling for control was fear, he realized – an emotion he hadn't much experience with.

"What is behind that wall?" he whispered, turning his head towards Dorian's hanging, slumped face.

The other man sighed in response.

Of the two options Victor had before him, he knew that he could not just leave Dorian here and run out the front door. Dorian had changed him, and he was thankful for it. Whatever horrors awaited the pair, he'd rather they face them together. This connection between them, it had to mean something. Victor had no idea what that meant, or where this might lead him, but he had to see it through.

So he dragged Dorian along the outer wall. The stones almost pulsed with an invisible force, but some part of his mind knew that was not where the power in this room emanated from.

The first thing he saw was the chair. Red velvet covered the back and seat, and the arms and framing poured in gold leaf – honestly the best piece of furniture he'd ever seen. It reminded him, in some way, of the suit Dorian sent him yesterday. Everything about this man dripped with opulence.

A few steps further, he got his first glimpse of the painting, and he stopped dead. It depicted a figure in a lavish setting, wearing clearly expensive clothes. After that, any semblance of a normal portrait was shot to hell.

His mouth dropped open and he screamed. There was the recognition that he had never screamed like this in his life, followed by a sudden urge to rip the eyes out of his head.

The body sitting on the chair looked like the most horrible, decomposed corpse Victor had ever come across during his time at university, only worse. The eyes were sunken and milky, the skin gray and sagging over a bony frame. Scars criss-crossed the skin that was exposed. Its mouth hung open, as if to cry out.

Dorian fell out of his arms. When he hit the tiled floor his eyes shot open and he drank in the vision before him. Using the last of his reserved strength, he wiggled his way towards the monstrous painting, which caused Victor to recoil from him, staggering backwards until the painting was no longer in sight. He could still see Dorian, however, and in a night of weird shit the next thing he saw took his mind completely off the painting.

The closer Dorian came to the image, the stronger he seemed. He pulled himself up into the chair opposite the painting with the hand that had moments ago been dangling, broken and useless at his side. Seated, he leaned back in the chair, and Victor watched in utter amazement as the cuts on his forehead sealed themselves up, the bruises fading to the alabaster complexion Victor had kissed. His eyes grew focused, that sharpness and intensity returning. His chest puffed out slightly as his broken ribs apparently mended themselves beneath the skin. In less than two minutes Dorian had pulled himself from the brink of death to his normal self, only wearing rags and still drenched in his own blood.

As Dorian rose from his chair, Victor continued to back away. He had that mirrored corridor at his back when he turned to run.

He took only one step before he heard Dorian call his name, and again he felt a sense of power surge through the room, causing him to stop. The hair rose along the back of his neck and he found himself glued to the spot. Over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears he could hear Dorian's bare feet slapping the tiles as he made his way over to Victor.

Dorian's hand slid over Victor's shoulder and down his pectoral, guiding him to turn back around. Now completely nude, it looked as if Dorian had used the remains of his clothing to attempt to wipe away the grime he accumulated in the alley.

"Victor," he said again, softly. "I can-"

"What?" Victor interrupted. "You can explain _that_?" Dorian's hand was firm on his back now, and his touch radiated. The electricity now came from Dorian and he was fully charged.

"I've been holding in some secrets for a long time now," he whispered, his voice feeling like honey. Victor resisted the urge to fall under his spell, and began losing the battle. "And this one, this one I need to let out." Dorian's mouth hovered near Victor's ear.

"What are you?"

"I'm human."

"No, that's not possible. What I just saw was… beyond this world."

"There are several mysteries in our world. Mysteries and secrets no one should witness, and it was unfortunate that you were the one who found me in that alley." Dorian gave him one delicate kiss on the neck. "There exists another world, entwined in our own, called the demimonde. It is a place of terrors, but also of immense power."

"Is that why you feel electrically charged?"

"Perhaps, but to honest I know little of the sciences." Dorian's eyes shifted, peering down the hallway. "Why was it when you brought me here, you didn't look into the glass, I wonder?"

Instead of answering, Victor asked, "What do you want with me? Why did you bring me here, send me that note?"

"I was guided to you by our mutual friend. He wanted you to have some company, and I love exploring brilliant minds, and bodies." He brought his other hand up, placing it on Victor's stomach, worming his fingers through his vest. "And I have all these desires that, even after all this time, I'm still realizing, finessing…"

Their lips locked and a spark ran the length of Victor's spine.

Victor's hands spun to Dorian's body as if magnetized. He still wanted his answers, but Dorian's entire presence was hypnotic, and it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. How much pain had Dorian endured throughout his life? What magic healed him minutes ago? These questions, amongst a dozen others, slid from his mind. He found himself being pushed backwards, tripping over his own feet, and then the mirrors were all around him. An inifite replication of Dorian's caresses, Victor's acceptance, splayed around them in every direction imaginable.

Victor was screaming again, but this time in absolute pleasure, caught in this abandonment.


End file.
